Fervor
by CountessEricka
Summary: They couldn't deny each other, especially when Esmé encounters Olivia in her bathroom, on a professional mission. However, desire interrupted her duties as they just couldn't resist one another. It's even hotter when they're fighting for different sides of justice. [Based on the TV series]


Esmè Squalor had her own private room just as her husband did, but she very rarely was to be found there. So rarely, in fact, her husband Jerome had temporarily stopped visiting said room for her presence. _Maybe in another one of our several rooms,_ he'd reassure himself, before searching the apartment like a game of manhunt. But one night, Esmé happened to return to that particular room due to human presence that simply didn't belong there, but fate brought this upon her.

This room was known as the Powder Room. All men - including having the name Jerome - were banished.

Almost every day, only a single curved bath - intoxicated with flower petals and heated water - occupied the room. Whenever Esmé enjoyed quiet moments to herself, she'd strip herself from the pinstripe jacket and skirt that were oh-so- _in._ Bare from restrictions within her city, she'd relax in the mellow water and listen to the sounds of nearby conversations downstairs. How wonderfully relaxing her life became...

Until she met an unexpected, yet striking, woman in her bathroom.

"Your apartment is wonderfully fascinating, Mrs Squalor," Olivia Caliban complimented. Although she seemed daring to invade Mrs Squalor's Powder Room, maybe she wasn't the fool that she presumed.

Pausing in her stroll, Esmé took one glance at the brunette standing a mere five feet behind the bathtub. Strands of chocolate-coloured hair were positioned neatly in endearing bangs that accompanied the bun peeking atop her head. Curves resembled positivity, and the curve of her smile surely represented her characteristics. And who would've interpreted that glasses made someone's appearance more...sexy?

Brushing away any signs of agitation or offence, Esmé marvelled, "That makes me wonder how long you've been inside my apartment."

Gazing at the woman, Esmé couldn't stop herself noticing her implicit features. That outfit. Black leather clothing? Nobody wore dark clothing - dark was out; light was in. Yet, they highlighted her bulging eyes, which reminded her of a pleading kitten. She was actually...cute. Those eyes glorified innocence, or maybe the pupils expanded wider than usual. Well, some people confirmed that pupils expanded when looking at things you loved. As her heartbeat sprinted, she questioned, "Who are you, some kind of burglar? Those types of people are definitely _not_ in."

Trembling at Mrs Squalor's sweet tone of voice, Olivia brushed away her goosebumps with a shrug, "My position in society is none of your concern."

 _Ah...this woman is playing hard to get._

A tiny twitch between her legs gave Esmé an overwhelming increase in confidence. Something about this woman made her wobbly at the knees. Briefly pointing her manicured finger at the woman, Esmé grinned, "Sneaky...I like that."

Even the briefest glimpse of Esmé Squalor's perfectly manicured finger could've made any human collapse on the spot. Finding her stares longer than expected, Olivia attempted focusing the subject on anything else but the unexpected pleasure she received at that moment. Hmm...warm colours. A large room with the tiniest facility. Olivia tilted her head, "I admire your taste, Mrs Squalor, but why do you have the need for many rooms?"

Playing with the woman's words, Esmé smirked and resumed her stroll toward the curved-linen of the tub. Her incredibly long fingers trailed across the surface as she replied, "Well, every room is handy for a different occasion."

Olivia gulped down a feverish lump in her throat. The moment Mrs Squalor began breaking and re-connecting their eyes, she understood the definition of teasing. Therefore she mirrored that gorgeous smile, asking, "And this one?"

Sinking her teeth into her lip, Esmé murmured, "For when I need to cherish my desires."

Surely, the scorching steam erupting from the bath water's surface caused Olivia's flushed completion. What else? Lust for Mrs Squalor, perhaps? Placing her twitchy palms behind her back, Olivia repeated, "Desires, Mrs Squalor?"

"Oh, you know," Esmé winked, "the feeling of independence. Or when Jerome isn't home, and I feel rather lonely..."

Fumbling with her clammy hands behind her back, Olivia dared to move closer toward the tub. Closer to _desires_ that she couldn't battle with, for Mrs Squalor suited her fantasies. Carefully chosen words balanced on the tip of her tongue. But, she realised how long the stride she leapt appeared, as Olivia admitted, "For a beautiful woman like you, you shouldn't feel lonely."

Butterflies in the stomach wasn't a common attribute in Esmé's life. Sure, Jerome complimented her appearance every day. Yet, hearing somebody else - a woman, for that matter - recognise her beauty seemed far too precious to ignore. Did she have the interest to experiment this...tension between them? Before Esmé answered herself, her fingers untied the knot that protected her bare skin from unwanted observers.

This woman, however, was an exception. Something about her urged Esmé to let her stay. Twirling her body the opposite way, Esmé traced the lapels of her bathrobe, imagining this woman's pair of hands stroking every inch of her body. Her neck, her back; all the way down to her clit...

 _Hold yourself, you've only just met her._

Olivia heard Esmé's voice echo as she was faced with her back, "Is that why you've invaded my Powder Room, Miss...?" her voice trailed for an answer, whilst her bathrobe slipped from her shoulders, gradually began revealing soft, peachy skin.

A short intake of breath hitched inside the woman's throat. She'd never witnessed a naked woman before, and for a first experience, she couldn't complain at this spectacular sight of artistry. One particular part Olivia couldn't control herself over was how her voluptuous breasts complimented her curvy figure. Was it hot in here?

"Uh...Olivia Caliban," she stuttered. Gosh, how could anyone focus when everything was drawn to her stunning figure? Somehow, her bare body and her eyes attracted each other like magnets, as Olivia couldn't help gazing downward. How satisfied her itchy palms would be, massaging her smooth body; treating herself with a touch softer than silk.

"Olivia..." she sighed, leaning her head back. Eyes closed, Esmé grinned as her mind repeated that one name. Something she could become used to repeating. "The way your name just rolls across my tongue is so... _in..._ "

Responding to Esmé's reaction with a compressed moan, Olivia smiled, "I could speak similarly to you, _Esmé_."

Esmé's eyebrow cocked as Olivia tackled her flirtatious manner with a smug expression. "We're on a first name basis already? Wow...you're lucky that only _men_ are banned from entering this room."

 _Was that...a tease?_

Drawing an intake of breath, Olivia calmed her unfamiliar excitement. Yet, she couldn't distract her sight from Esmé's astonishing figure.

Speaking of Esmé, her voice came across like a short sigh, "So, what brings your presence here?"

 _The satisfaction of bathing...that's all it is. Pull yourself together, Olivia._

Attempting to disguise her weakness as professional business, Olivia cleared her throat and replied, "Work business, but seeing that I've...stumbled upon something more eye-catching..."

She couldn't prevent her eyes from glancing at every inch.

Oh yes, those eyes weren't feigning innocence now.

One fingertip trailed along the black leather that hugged the main zip to her jacket. Playing with the emblem like a kitten with wool, Esmé purred, "How about you join me for a bath, _Olivia_? No time to rush, right?"

 _Fuck, yes, please._

Joining a married woman for a bath seemed guilty enough, but the benefits of touching her delicate skin wasted no more time. Esmé knelt so she faced Olivia, staring upward with eyes that couldn't appear any more suggestive than someone pleading for everlasting sex. Droplets of water trailed down her body.

Esmé wrapped her fingers around Olivia's wrist, like nylon rope curling and attaching itself for stability. Releasing a jagged breath, Olivia watched her outstretched palm caress Esmé's warm breast. Her tongue ran across her lips. Her hand slid above the moist skin, yet encouraged her no less to grope further.

"Mmh," Esmé purred. Never had she experienced a woman touching her breasts, but nevertheless, she imagined herself floating atop clouds. Especially with that igniting librarian smell lingering around her. Opening her eyes, she ordered, "I want you to kiss me, Olivia."

 _I want your lips all over my body, Olivia._

 _I want to feel your body brush against mine, Olivia._

 _I want you to fuck me, Olivia._

Surely, Olivia could've overheard her thoughts screaming for her heart's desire. A gracious moan replied to her command before leaning down, burying her fingers into Esmé thick blonde locks, and caressing her lips with another pair as smooth and vibrant as rose petals. Kissing certainly wasn't her expertise, but all of a sudden Esmé awakened exhilaration inside her. A hot tongue budged her lips open, merging their mouths together like two clouds floating together.

Distracting Olivia with her tongue's heat, Esmé trailed her palms from the woman's wrists towards her shapely figure. Leather against skin never felt better. She felt Olivia's repressed sounds vibrate between their lips, implying a sense of ecstasy.

 _Darling, it's about to get glorious._

Esmé's fingers drew pleasurable patterns from Olivia's hips, all the way down to her thighs. The two parts of flesh squeezed together, cautious but flustered by the unexpected intruder. Not that Olivia detested this feeling. She desired much more than a single touch.

Yet, she kept her submissiveness as a short tease.

"I thought bathing meant we're supposed to get clean," Olivia whispered between their lips, before diving back for more. A short gasp echoed throughout the Powder Room, feeling Esmé's palms grope her backside and seep into her buzzing veins.

Esmé's brief chuckle delivered pangs of pleasure racing toward her pubic bone. Her fingers slipped past the elastic pants, satisfying her needs by feeling hot, bare skin coating her hands.

"Join me...I do insist," Esmé whispered between their lips, gazing upward with half-lidded eyes. She grinned once her fingertips traced the cotton that hugged Olivia's hips and revealed how _soaked_ she was for Esmé.

"Please..." Olivia pleaded. Trailing her palm once more across Esmé's breast, Olivia mirrored their previous actions, curling a hand around Esmé's wrist this time. Her hips bucked into her hand, desperate for a remedy that satisfied her wet panties.

Wonderful. Enough lubrication would make her fingers slide into her easier.

Grinning at Olivia's dearest request, Esmé began her journey past the elastic barrier between her hand and the sweetness within.

Lower...

 _And lower..._

Olivia glanced downward, witnessing Esmé's guilty fingers travel _lower_ towards her core...

"Dearest, I'm home!" Jerome Squalor's quirky voice echoed several rooms away, "I've got more parsley soda for the second dining room."

Closing her eyes, Esmé huffed. Once they reopened, she noticed Olivia gazing down at her. Those glistening hues begging for her delicate touch. Never had she experienced sexual fantasies with women, but from the moment Olivia witnessed the body of a presumed Goddess, she couldn't tear her thoughts away. Professional business couldn't even drive her mind forward.

Eye contact remained fastened between the two. Esmé dreaded the moment that Olivia's presence would fade, but she couldn't embarrass her. Instead, she kissed her soft palms and whispered, "I'll be meeting you again, Olivia."

Those eyes sparkled all of a sudden, feigning some interest in Esmé's words. Scenarios - the two women embracing in the steaming bath, touching wherever their hearts' and cores' desired - caused her legs to wobble. How fascinating that Esmé's luscious voice could simply turn her mind into putty.

Therefore, Olivia zipped her jacket up, brushed a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. Her glasses slipped down her nose, possibly due to the immense sweat beaded across her nose and cheeks. How could one woman make her boiling with desire? She stole a final glimpse of Esmé's glistening body before escaping the bathroom. Maybe next time, there be no distractions to halt those long fingers from sending Olivia into an infinite universe.

Maybe next time, they'd finish this guilty secret they began...


End file.
